


For Peace and Country (and Love)

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Loyalty, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Politics, Protectiveness, Self-Sacrifice, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18810805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: Kornelius desperately wants to avoid war and do something to prove himself worthy as the heir to Akriam. The young, charming Emperor Ioann seems to be offering him just that chance. Kornelius' best friend and first adjutant, Janis, is not convinced that things are as simple as Kornelius would like them to be. Someone will need to end up being wrong and suffer for their mistake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sombregods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sombregods/gifts).



Kornelius was nine when his father had first explained to him about the Empire. His father had taken him into the small council chamber and spread out a map on the large oak table. The Empire’s territories had been shaded with a led pen, so they looked darker and more ominous than the other states. Kornelius knew about the Empire’s _existence,_ of course, but what his geography lessons had taught him was sterile and lacking in urgency. The transformation of the Kingdom of Severoslava into the Empire of Severoslava had then been a relatively new phenomenon to which all the sovereign nations of the region were still adjusting. Over the next decade, the Empire would continue to swallow up neighboring territories at alarming rates, and while most of its attention had been focused Eastward, everyone knew that, eventually, their appetites would shift. 

His father had put a hand on his shoulder as Kornelius stared at the map, entranced, and said, “This is the beast that will come for us all one day, son. Learn its outlines now, know them by heart. You will rule Akriam one day and its future may depend on this.” 

After, Kornelius ran directly to his rooms to find his immediate escort – at that time a suite of five boys around his age – and told them everything his father had said. They were a noise lot, always playing at soldiers or explorers. None of them had taken the Sovereign’s lecture to his heir too seriously, except for, perhaps, Janis, who took _everything_ seriously. It was only much later that night, when he was alone, that Kornelius stood at his bedchamber window and looked out across the sprawling fields just outside the palace gates, stretching far into the distance, and wondered at the seriousness in his father’s face, and the gravity of his voice. One day he would rule, and it stunned him that this appeared to come with such fear and grim determination. 

If his father had wanted to make an impression, he was successful, though perhaps not in the way he had intended. 

That had been over a decade ago. Kornelius had grown up, his suit of loudmouthed playmates mostly scattered, aside from Janis who remained as his first adjutant, and the Empire had predictably expanded to devour its neighbors. Its latest targets appeared to be Akriam and its sister-states, the zemes of Akras and Akri. Such an incursion had been made some two years before, but was dropped due to the Empire’s internal political unrest and the Empress’ illness. Now, the new Emperor was left to pick up where his mother had left off. 

A Peace Conference was called, organized on the border of Akras and the Empire’s newly acquired territories. Four delegations, presided over by their respective heads of state, and with two-three companies of soldiers at their back, were to meet for several days of pre-war negotiations. Such a conference was tradition – respected in form, derided in confidence – so when Kornelius took leave of the bulk of his troops at the border with Akras, his generals smiled and said, “To a soon meeting, Your Highness.” 

And Kornelius had naught to do but nod and wonder on the ride up to the small hunting outpost of Briedivetas why anyone even bothered if it was all so truly hopeless. 

*

The hunting outpost of Briedivetas that had been chosen to host the conference had several simple wooden cabins, the largest of which was dedicated to the negotiations and social events while the rest were taken up by heads of state, their adjutants and civilian dignitaries. The officers and soldiers were left to camp out around the small cluster of cabins. After ensuring that everything had been arranged for their camp, Kornelius retreated to his cabin and, in short order, found himself staring blankly out the window, turning the crested ambassadorial seal his father had given him over and over between his fingers. An ambassadorial seal, not a royal one. He could enter into civilian agreements with it, short-term ceasefire treaties, a number of other diplomatic formalities, but any major alliance or peace treaty would need his father’s final approval. 

A soft knock on the door announced Janis. “You Highness.” 

“I hate it when you do that in private.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’d think you’d like it. Especially on your first trip as your father’s envoy.”

Kornelius made a face and held up the seal for Janis to see. “I don’t think the other prices will like that I don’t have full powers. And if not them, then the Emperor.”

“Piss on the Emperor.”

Kornelius scoffed. “How irreverent of you, Major.”

Janis came to stand beside him. “There was nothing to be done. It is better than forcing your father to make the journey.”

Kornelius shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Not in his condition. I just wish—” He looked away from Janis’ probing gaze. He did not know how to explain the warring desires within him – to live up to his father’s expectations and prove himself but to also do something positive for the world for once. Rubberstamping an allied decision to go to war did not feel very positive. It did not feel like the right thing for Akriam either, not matter what even his father might thing.

“You’ll be fine.” 

“Hm.” Kornelius shrugged and went to find his personal things to unpack. “What’s on the schedule today.”

“A meeting with the princes and then the opening parades and ball. The Emperor is expected to arrive closer to the evening, so the start has been moved by three-quarters of an hour to allow for any unexpected delays.”

“Good.” Kornelius took time to lay out his papers, methodically resorting them and locking the more sensitive ones away again. He arranged his writing desk with the same pedantic neatness as at home. This was not inherent in him at all. When he was an adolescent, in order to look pleasing and organized to his father, Kornelius had charged Janis to keep an eye on the order of his things. Janis had taken the assignment to heart and Kornelius always had the most orderly rooms of the palace. Having things arranged in this way had become a habit and now he was inclined to keep that order of things. The last thing he arranged on the writing desk was the seal. It shimmered up at him in the low afternoon light. “I supposed we should be off,” he said finally, ostensibly to Janis, but more to himself. ‘Best not keep the princes waiting.”

Janis caught him at the door, both hands on his shoulders from behind. They were very close and Kornelius closed his eyes, wondering if Janis could feel how tense his muscles were under all the lace, silk and wool of his shirt and doublet. 

“Relax,” Janis said. 

Almost involuntarily, Kornelius felt the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly. “I swear, you’re a shaman.”

Janis laughed. “Come.” 

*

“Kornelius! How is your father?”

“Thank you, Your Highness. He hopes to live to see peace.”

“Ah that old fox. He better not be hiding from a fight.”

“My father would not dream, Your Highness.” Kornelius could already feel the tension returning to his body. He gave the Sovereign-Prince Benas of Akras a conciliatory look to show that he chose to take his words as friendly humor about an old acquaintance. Prince Benas was getting old himself, his white hair long and pulled back into a tight twist, though some of it still came loose at his temples. He had sharp, watchful, small eyes and his doublet was tailored more like a tunic. It was a joke in Akriam that Akras men still fought with arrows as often as with muskets. 

Sovereign-Prince Endrik of Akri was younger, but still at least twenty years Kornelius’ senior. His hair was sandy-brown and worn braided. He wore a salty scent that was likely meant to mimic the smell of the sea. Endrik’s expression was more neutral than Benas’. “I’m glad to see Valdis has finally sent his Heir into the world. It’s about time.” He glanced over Kornelius’ shoulder at Janis. “Your adjutant?”

“Janis Gans,” Kornelius said. 

Janis gave a reserved bow. 

Something about the way Benas was studying Janis made Kornelius anxious. Not feeling like he wanted to be scrutinized further, Kornelius nodded to the table where various tactical maps were spread out. “Shall we begin, My Lords?”

They huddled over the tactical maps. The Empire was amassing its forces at Lake Ezerinis, in apparent preparation to secure both sides of the Upinis River that made up the majority of the border between Akri and Akras. The theory presented was that they were attempting to split the forces of the allied zemes. Akras, Akri and Akriam had long standing mutual-defense treaties dating back several generations. They had not been renegotiated for ages and had always been taken as a granted fact by all three states. Now, the alliance could prove especially vital if they went to war. With the Empire kept relatively busy in the south by Yukraia and very busy in the far East with another new war, the attention they could spare for the allied zemes was such that it could be repelled. But the balance was tenuous. If even one of the zemes chose to withdraw from the war, the other two were likely doomed. 

They discussed war strategies for some time. Finally, Benas proposed that they wrap for the evening before the ceremonial parade and ball. 

“One more thing,” Kornelius put in. “Should we not discuss strategies for tomorrow negotiations? Coordinate about what we would consider an acceptable suit for peace?”

Benas scoffed. “You are young, Prince Kornelius. Your eagerness is admirable, but there will be no peace.”

“Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“Supposedly,” Benas said, his tone dripping with disdain. ”I will see you tonight, My Lords.”

Kornelius gave Prince Endrik a somewhat bewildered look. 

“He’s not wrong,” Endrik said. “It’s unlikely the Empire will offer anything reasonable.”

*

“How do I look?” Kornelius asked. He was standing in front of the mirror, surveying his best parade uniform. The front was embroidered with shimmering gold, which stood out against the dark, thick crimson fabric of the jacket. The epaulets had long cords, which clipped to the sleeves in a loosely braided formation. The high boots were a deep, glistening black, the gold buckles matching the embroidery on the jacket. The colors brought out the velvety tones in Kornelius’ eyes and gave a slight honeysuckle tint to his dirty-blonde curls. 

Janis forced himself to keep his breathing even. “It really suits you.”

Kornelius smiled and spun around once, admiring the tailoring. “If only my clothes could do some use,” he said, a few notes of bitterness slipping into his voice. “Did you see how they all looked at us in that meeting? Me, you? They wanted my father here – another old exemplar, willing to uphold a farce but not willing to actually take a step forward. Not that I don’t love my father…”

“It’s hard to trust the Empire after what they’ve done in the past,” Janis said, trying to be conciliatory. 

“Well, the Empire does have a new Emperor, so I suppose we will see.”

Janis met Kornelius’ eyes in the mirror. “Don’t let them intimidate you, though. Your father trusts you and that’s all that matters.”

“I just wish that trust wasn’t such a weight in my chest all the time.”

Janis wanted to step forward and wrap his arms around Kornelius, breath in his evening cologne, make him feel safe, or at least _safer._ He didn’t know what to say to make it all easier. “Let us not be late,” he said instead. 

*

The Empire certainly had a new Emperor. And he was young and handsome and charming. From the moment he appeared at the formal parade, Janis understood all the rumors about how the new Severoslavan ruler could garner support in territories that had not so long ago wanted to make a bid for independence. He had a presence about him, a strong commanding aura that seemed to spread out through the room. His smile was bright and seemed to be directed at everyone at the same time, light brown hair that looked soft to the touch, large blue eyes, delicate cheekbones, broad shoulders, full lips – he was some adolescent boy’s fairytale wet dream. 

And, apparently, horrifyingly, Kornelius’ type. 

The diplomatic ball was small and pristine. With the absence of ladies, there was little dancing and more card playing and drinking. But His Majesty Emperor Ioann of Severoslava was not about to let social constraints put a damper on his evening. 

After exchanging some terse words with Benas and Endrik, he approached Kornelius with a spare glass of wine. “Your Highness, I hope you are more inclined to be sociable than your allies.”

Kornelius took the offered wine. “Very much so, Your Majesty. It is very nice to make your acquaintance.” 

“I heard your father is ill. I hope it is temporary and very fleeting.”

“The fates willing,” Kornelius said, smiling broadly. 

“Might we drink to his health then?” Emperor Ioann offered. They drank. Janis took a sip of his own wine, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I want you to know, Your Highness,” Ioann said, dropping his voice as though speaking in confidence, “that I would like very much to end this affair in peace. My country has many territories and we are likely to gain more in the east very room. It is not in our interests to wage another war. But there are interests we have and things we need that…well, it’s difficult when your neighbors do not wish to be friendly.”

“I completely agree,” Kornelius said. “But of course we all must protect our interests.”

“Of course. But it does give me hope – you being here, Prince Kornelius. You and I are much younger than our parents and the other parties involved in this matter. It is easier for us to put aside old grudges and look to the future.”

 _Really,_ Janis thought snidely to himself. _And what kind of future is that? Where you rule the whole world?”_ Out loud he said, “Your Majesty, perhaps we better keep the negotiations to the negotiating room and enjoy the wine tonight.”

The Emperor threw him a look that Janis could not quire read. “I certainly mean to enjoy the wine, Major…?”

“Janis Gans.”

“Major Gans. It is Major is it not?”

“Yes.” 

Kornelius threw him a look that seemed to say, _oh do be more friendly._

“Would you dance with me, Prince Kornelius?” the Emperor asked suddenly. 

To Janis’ bewilderment, Kornelius flushed. “What, here?” 

“It is a ball.”

Kornelius beamed. He turned and held out his glass to Janis. “Your Highness, perhaps--?”

Kornelius gave him a look and Janis surrendered, taking his glass. He watched Kornelius and Ioann walk to the center of the hall and join two other couples in the dancing. The music was lively and all of a sudden, Ioann had his arm around Kornelius’ waist and they were off in a pattern of spins and step, following each other oddly well for never having danced together. Janis noticed the other princes and senior diplomats exchanging looks. Part of it was that Akras was still more conservative when it came to men dancing together, in part it was seeing Kornelius be so warm and friendly with someone these men had already decided was a foe. 

_It’s only a dance,_ Janis thought, trying to convince himself more than anything. _They don’t need to stare quite so openly._ But despite his attempts to be more reasonable than the old, stodgy princes and their aids, he felt a bewildered sort of heaviness in his chest, a sharp stinging pain. Not because Kornelius was dancing, but because somehow Ioann managed to make him laugh and smile like an adolescent even though they had just met. They spent the evening dancing and speaking of niceties. It seemed that politics cam up very little, though Janis could not say for sure as Kornelius seemed to forget about everything accept Ioann. 

All their years of friendship, and Kornelius had never looked at him with such astonished, happy surprise. Janis did not think he had ever looked at anyone with quite such infatuation. 

But what was he expecting? Ioan could command a room. He looked impeccable in a parade uniform. He was carefree and matched Kornelius’ optimism with his own upbeat hopefulness and, rather inappropriate, Janis thought, jokes about the older diplomats – men who came out to wage war because they were ready to die themselves. “But are we to do?” Ioann had asked with a mock dramatic groan. “We who are young and wish to live?” Janis was nothing like this. He was dark in coloring, from his tan skin to his dark eyes and thick dark hair. He was serious and studious. He knew how to tease Kornelius but not quite how to joke away his fears with easy frivolity. Janis had always been too serious for his own good, had always taken everything too responsibly. And now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. 

On their way back to their shared cabin, Kornelius talked non-stop. “It’s really wonderful, Janis. He’s smart and agreeable and a good sense of humor. I cannot believe a man like that wants war.”

“I think you should be careful,” Janis said. 

“I am,” Kornelius insisted. “I know he has his interests to watch out for and we have ours. I wouldn’t do anything that didn’t suit Akriam, no matter how personable I find someone. Do you doubt that?” In the dark and very tipsy, Kornelius was a little unsteady and held on to Janis’ arm as they walked. Janis was glad that Kornelius was too focused on not tripping to see his expression. 

“Not at all, Your Highness. I’m simply surprised you’ve taken to him so.”

“I’m only happy we have good prospects for the negotiations is all,” Kornelius said cheerfully. 

Janis wanted to believe him. 

*

Despite Kornelius’ hopes, the first round of negotiations did not go well. 

Benas began the meeting by announcing that the only way that there would be peace is if the Empire left the zemes alone. He also managed to do it in his most booming baritone, echoing through the room like a trumpet. 

Emperor Ioann listened to Benas and Endrik put forward their complaints with a calm, impassive expression. Finally, when it was his turn to speak, he began in a calm, quite voice with a silky texture, as though soothing a child. Janis, who was there as one of Kornelius’s aids, heard poison under the sweetness. “I find it unfortunate that Akri will not give us an easement to the northern sea and that Akras will not trade its timber and minerals with us on the same favorable terms that it does with its Western neighbors. You have turned down any effort by my country to buy an easement through your lands so we can trade more easily with the –stadts. All three of your countries, My Lords. I do not see any reason why such simple, civil treaties cannot be executed. There would be no need for war and strife if your states would only consider being reasonable. You treated us as the enemy before we were ever in conflict. You must see how that is insulting and unproductive.” 

“It is not like the Empire has none of these resources,” Benas said tersely. 

“Well, so do the –stadts. And we do not have the sea. We are willing to pay.” 

Endrik looked unconvinced. “We’ve seen your offers before. They are miserly. It is almost more expensive for you to go to war than to pay us fair, but you won’t.” 

After that, new accusations followed. Of bad faith and bigotry and bullying. Janis noticed that almost the entire time, no matter who Ioann seemed to be addressing, he was looking primarily at Kornelius. As for himself, Kornelius spoke little, Janis could guess that he felt overshadowed by his allies’ vehemence and that he was taking note of Ioann’s arguments. 

“You do have some nerve,” Ioann said finally, after a long, uncomfortable pause in the debate suddenly descended on the room as all sides dug in. Ioann sounded more thoughtful than angry as he spoke. “You accuse us of terrorizing our neighbors when it is your governments that are providing financial aid and resources to rebels on Severoslava’s western borders.” 

This comment caused an uproar. For the first time, even Kornelius seemed offended. Prince Benas jumped up from his seat. “This is outrageous! I refuse to sit here and listen to this.” 

“Your Majesty, it’s wrong to make such accusations without proof!” Kornelius said. He glanced at Janis nervously. 

“I do not wish to offend, Prince Kornelius,” Ioann said, giving Kornelius a warm smile. “And I know _you_ are not responsible for any of this.”

“We are done here. You’re not here to negotiate. You are here to be a snake.” Benas spat on the floor. “We are leaving immediately.” He turned on his heal. His delegation followed him out.

Endrik stood as well. Kornelius quickly approached him and took his arm. “Your Highness, perhaps we should not hurry. We could still turn this into a good treaty if we tried. I don’t think Prince Benas ever had the mind for peace. I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding here about these…rebels. You and I could sort this out.” The look he gave Endrik was almost pleading. Janis felt Kornelius’ desperation. His initial alarm marginally gave way to simple sympathy. His sweet prince was so desperate for things to work out. It had always been his best trait. 

“You are young, Prince Kornelius. We all want peace but one day you will see that the Empire does not want easements and fair trade,” Endrick said quietly, so that Ioann would not hear him from across the long table. “The Empire wants war and conquest. Benas is old and bitter, but he is not wrong. Do yourself a favor and leave at once as we will do. Do not delay. We need to be ready for war.” The Akri delegation followed their prince out. 

“I’m sorry it all went like this,” Kornelius said to Ioann, looking dejected. “I dd not mean for it to…” 

“I know you did not,” Ioann said with a sigh. 

Kornelius bowed as though to say goodbye, but Ioann called him back. “Wait, Your highness. Before you leave. May I have a private word. In my quarters.” 

Kornelius nodded. Janis meant to follow him but Kornelius gave him a look. _Private._

Ioann and Kornelius left side-by-side, their shoulders almost touching. They were not yet out of sight when Ioann began saying something quietly to Kornelius. There was nothing for Janis to do but go back to his own room, pour a drink, and wait. 

*

The Emperors’ quarters were in a similar wooden hunting cabin as Kornelius’ but he had taken more care to make them feel like home with embroidered armchairs and fluffy rugs that his delegation had obviously brought with them. Ioann poured Kornelius and himself brandy and offered him a seat by the fire. 

The room was warm and smelled like mint and herbs. Ioann had hung some of his personal hunting gear on the wall. Kornelius watched the fire glumly. If only the other princes were not so stubborn. 

“I am very sorry for my outburst earlier,” Ioann said. “We have had news of raids and very well-funded rebellions on our western borders. Our intelligence points to Akras’ involvement. But I do not have definitive proof. I should not have said anything. I’m afraid my frustration got the best of me.” 

Kornelius nodded. “I understand. I was frustrated too.”

“I did think last night that something like this might happen,” Iaonn continued, sipping on his brandy. “I called my diplomats and said, gentlemen, the only prince here who has any sense is Kornelius. As young as he is.”

“You are only flattering me,” Kornelius said. He knew he shouldn’t take such words at face value, but Ioann always seemed very genuine, and he was the only one prepared to treat Kornelius as an equal. 

“You are certainly the only one willing to talk about peace.”

“I’m tired of being in a constant state of preemptive war.”

“I know Akriam often needs to fight its allies’ wars. Well, that’s how alliances are. But perhaps I could offer you something better. A treaty just between us.” Ioann went on outlining the terms: Severoslava would have peace with Akriam if Akriam would withhold aid to Akras and Akri in the coming war. Severoslava would pay double the standard payment for an easement through Akriam for Severoslava to trade with the western –stadts. There would be lower tariffs for Akriam-exported grain and coal of which Akriam always had a surplus. It sounded almost too good to be true. 

“I would have to consult with my advisers,” Kornelius said, tentatively. The more he thought able this treat the more he liked it. Ioann spoke sense, he spoke of peace. His earnest blue eyes smiled at Kornelius and fire danced across his handsome face. 

To be allies with a man like that… 

“Think of all the lives we could save,” Ioann said. “You told me last night when we were dancing that that was what horrified you the most about war – the senseless loss of life. My mother thought little of these things. Now she is dead, and I rule. I’ve spent months trying to make people forget how ruthless she was. That is why a country has unrest – when its people do not believe in the good faith of its government. I have spent too much time in trying to regain their faith in my family and my family’s rule in order to lose it. No, it’s true, war there will be. But the less the better. I would have none at all if it were possible without sacrificing my country’s glory and interests. It’s a balance. You will see when you take the crown.” He paused for a moment, then added, thoughtfully, “Perhaps you see already.”

“What you say intrigues me,” Kornelius said. The thought that Ioann had taken their conversations so seriously made Kornelius feel hopeful, more sure of himself than he had felt in days. 

“Prince Kornelius, you and I are the future. We could show the world how old enmities could be put aside. We were some of the few who danced last night when no one else had the nerve, could relax for long enough to trust. And how much more fun did we have?”

Kornelius could not help but smile. “Far too much, Your Majesty.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Kornelius, this is…” _Madness_ , Janis wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Concerning.” They were in Janis’ room, Kornelius just returned from his private meeting with Ioann, eyes bright with excitement. As soon as he saw him, Janis wished he had drunk less wine while waiting. 

“Why? This treaty would be very advantageous for us. We could use the help, Janis. It’s easy enough for Akras and Akri to balk at everything that comes their way. Akras is rich in timber. Rich in fertile soil and minerals. Akri has the sea and their sea trade. Notice how the two of them have a trade treaty we’re not a part to – Akras’ timber for Akri’s ships, and an easement for its merchants to the sea. We’ve got grain and livestock and coal, but it’s not nearly enough. The –stadts would rather trade with Yukraia – their harvests are more predictable and bigger. And look at us? We have one truly bad season and we need to import to feed ourselves properly.”

“That only makes it worse. Would it not be more preferable for the Empire to offer this treaty to our allies? Why us?”

“Because I’m the only one here who cares to seriously talk about peace!”

Janis could hear the frustration in Kornelius building. He saw it in the tense set of Kornelius’ shoulders when he turned away, toward the fire. The light danced frantically across his face, painting deep shadows into his features. 

“We would betray our allies with this,” Janis said, softly. He wanted to walk over and put his arms around Kornelius, nest his chin against Kornelius’ shoulder and get him to see that maybe Ioann was not all he seemed to be. Kornelius had always been too eager. 

“It’s always us who are forced to defend Akras and Akri against someone. Never the other way around. As you said, their lands are more desirable. Our treaties have always been one-sided by nature of the thing. Do you think they rebuff Severoslava out of loyalty to us?” Kornelius’ voice was hoarse and Janis could not tell him he was wrong on this point. 

Instead, he walked over and stood beside Kornelius so that their shoulders were almost touching. He wanted – desperately – to reach out and take Kornelius’ hand, to touch him, to have something but silence and tense words between them again. 

“The princes are stuck in their ways. I’ve tried to reason with them, but you see how that’s turned out. They don’t care for my opinion because—because they think they know better.” Kornelius looked down and bit his lip. “I know I don’t have their experience, but I’m not an idiot.” 

“No one said that. But please don’t tell me that you’re just doing this to be contrary.”

“Of course I’m not!” 

“If the Empire conquers Akras and Akri we will be left without immediate allies. Nothing will stop it from then conquering us. The –stadts don’t care, ultimately, about what happens to us. Yukraia has enough of its own problems. There will be nothing to stop Ioann from going back on the treaty.” A moment too late, Janis realized that he had made this too personal. 

Kornelius bristled. “You’re just jealous! I see the look on your face, Janis, whenever Ioann and I were talking or dancing together. You’re jealous that we think of this in the same manner, that for once, I’m agreeing with someone who isn’t _you._ ”

The room felt too hot and the crackling of the fire too loud in the dead silence. It was not supposed to be like this. It had never been like this. _Does he know about my feelings and judge me for them?_ An electric anxiety spread over Janis. He felt like every nerve in his body was suddenly hypersensitive. “Do you really think that?”

Kornelius stayed stubbornly silent, looking into the middle distance between himself and the fireplace. 

Janis stepped in front of him. “Kornelius, I have been in your household since we were boys. I have no closer friend. I am faithful to no one but you. Everything I do, no matter how misguided, I do for your benefit and for the glory of Akriam. It cannot be otherwise.” _Damn it, if you only knew…_ Of course it hurt when he saw how Kornelius looked at Ioann. _Of course_ he wished that it was him Kornelius thought about with such reverence. But he was not an Emperor and he had long ago come to terms that his feelings were not returned. Kornelius needed something grander, something more—romantic. 

Kornelius drew in a long breath and rubbed his temples, avoiding Janis’ eyes. “I just don’t really have anyone here to rely on except for you. I wish you would have my back instead of playing devil’s advocate because you dislike Ioann. 

Janis opened his mouth, not exactly knowing what he wanted to say. _I’m not playing devil’s advocate—it’s not that I dislike Ioann; I don’t trust him—supporting you also means telling you the truth._ Instead he said, “You are my prince. If this is what you wish to do, I am at your disposal.” 

Kornelius gave him a vague smile, reached out and took Janis’ hands in his. Janis wished he wouldn’t. All the win he had drunk made his head fuzzy and his emotions amplified tenfold. The excitement in Kornelius’ eyes, the warmth of his hands and the heat of the fire at Janis’ back made Janis feel like the entire thing was a test of emotional endurance he was likely to fail. He forced himself to focus on what Kornelius was saying. 

“Listen. I intend to meet with Emperor Ioann and his diplomats tonight in Berstol – better than here in case anyone is still lurking – before he leaves for his main military camp. You can quiz him about anything you find suspicious Then, barring striking new developments, we can sign the treaty. And this nightmare of a campaign need not happen at all.” 

Janis had stopped paying attention somewhere halfway through. “His Majesty is certainly in a rush.” 

Kornelius was not phased. “He’s not going to Lake Ezerinis. He’s going further north.”

“What? But—are you saying they’re not trying to take control of the Upinis?”

“No, their actual target is Iluslinn. It’s a straight shot from there to the sea. But to get there before the scouts catch on, they’ll need to make a forced nighttime march. Probably a couple more after that, I’d wager—"

“Wait.” Janis cut him off, eyebrows knitting together. This was all wrong. “How do you know about all this?”

“Ioann told me. At our meeting. I shouldn’t be telling you, really. This is not intelligence we can share. It’s a sign of trust and good faith—”

A sharp knock on the door cut off both Kornelius’ explanation and Janis’ dismayed protests. One of the diplomatic secretaries poked his head in. “Pardon, Your Highness. A letter has come from your father.”

Janis could feel the jolt that went through Kornelius. He took a step toward the door, but Janis tightened his hold on Kornelius’ hands holding him back. 

“Wait. Your Highness, this is alarming. Reveals of sensitive military information, prior to a treaty—”

Kornelius, his thoughts likely already on the subject of his father, was not inclined to let him finish. He pulled his hand out of Janis’ hold and walked briskly toward the door. “it’s a sign of good faith and trust, Janis, I told you,” he threw over his shoulder before walking out. “You see betrayal everywhere. We’ll speak later.” 

Janis sank down into an armchair as the door shut behind Kornelius and the diplomatic secretary. The logs in the fireplace had nearly burned themselves out, making the fire sputter and choke from time to time. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he really was blinded with jealousy and dislike for the young, attractive Severoslavan Emperor. Ioann did not necessarily have his mother’s views of the world any more than Kornelius had his father’s. 

But the reveal of military strategy made no sense. Even Kornelius would not be so foolish. _Heaven, tell me he hasn’t been…_ What would be the purpose of such a lie, however? So Kornelius would bring the false news to the other princes if the treaty fell through after all? _He certainly doesn’t expect Kornelius to have much honor._ And if the treaty was signed, it would be easy enough to break after the other zemes were conquered.

Janis suddenly felt like he needed another drink. 

Perhaps whatever the Sovereign Prince had to say in his letter would sway Kornelius’ thoughts. Kornelius respected his father and he had to know that his father would _never_ agree to approve such a treaty. Kornelius, with the folly of sons, might have thought that he could convince his father, but to anyone from the outside it was likely obvious that would never happen. Nothing about this bloody treaty lined up neatly enough. 

_What if it’s a trap?_

If Janis closed his eyes, he could clearly see the frustration of Kornelius’ face and hear the irritation when he snapped, _You’re just jealous!_

_What if I’m really just jealous?_  
  
*

For a moment, Kornelius had an unreasonable fear that the letter that would be handed to him would be bound in a black ribbon and that it would not actually be from his father but from the council, informing him of his father death. But the letter was ordinary, affixed with the royal seal, in his father’s hand. In subject, it was also mundane: troop movements. 

Kornelius spent the next hour packing up official papers and making plans for the delegation’s departure the next morning. The other delegations had hurried to leave, and it would not due for Akriam troops to outstay their welcome on Akras soil. Certainly not if the treaty indeed worked out. Kornelius knew Janis was worried. But Janis always worried. _If I listened to Janis every time he distrusted something, I would never get anything done._ It was a trait Kornelius both valued and found endlessly frustrating in his friend. 

A knock on the door made him look up. Janis slipped in without waiting for an answer. “Do you mind, Your Highness?”

Kornelius smirked at him. “What if I had been…inappropriately engaged, Major?”

“That would have been unfortunate.”

Kornelius grinned. _There._ If they were back to teasing each other, it meant that their previous argument was settled. He did not want to fight with Janis, not with something this important happening. 

“Important news from your father?”

“Not really. Nothing urgent.”

“Speaking of urgent, there was a messenger from Emperor Ioann.”

“Oh?” Kornelius held out a hand, anticipating a note. 

Janis shook his head. “No, he relayed it orally and I sent him off, thinking you were still engaged. it seemed unnecessary.”

Kornelius gave him a dramatic sigh. “Well, what did he say?”

“Emperor Ioann had to leave earlier than expected. Because of the long march ahead, I was told. I suppose they must have miscalculated the travel time earlier. There’s a new rendezvous location somewhat further north for your meeting. I wrote it down not to forget.” Janis handed him a note. 

Comparing with the map, Kornelius ascertained it was a small fishing village, mostly abandoned, within a couple of hours ride. “So, you’re not angry with me?”

“I was never angry with you, Kornelius. Only concerned.” 

That was a relief. He needed Janis. “Come with me. We need to be discrete so I’m only going to take four-five of the guard. I could use another diplomat in the room.” He looked into Janis’ face and said as sincerely as he could, “I want you.”

Something indescribably flashed across Janis’ expression, a reaction Kornelius could not place. In a moment it was gone. “I think I should stay here, Your Highness. oversee the delegation’s departure preparations. Who else will do it properly? Especially if we need to be prepared to retreat all the way back home, link up smoothly with the rest of our forces…” 

He was not wrong on that account. They would need to leave at first light and do so in the most organized manner possible. Perhaps Janis could also take care of preparing some drafts to inform their allies that they would not be participating in this war. It would also, perhaps, be wiser for Janis to not get the chance to antagonize Ioann too much. Slowly, reluctantly, Kornelius nodded. He stood and grabbed his cloak. “You’re right. I will take Daugawin instead. He’s sharp.” He touched Janis’ shoulder briefly on his way out and was surprised when Janis caught his hand and held on. 

“I hope you’re right about this meeting and that I am wrong,” Janis said. “I hope it is truly a once-in-a-lifetime treaty they want.” 

“I know you always see the worst in people, Janis. But I refuse to live like that. Maybe if people stopped doing that, they wouldn’t be at war all the time.” 

Janis smiled at him in that fond, warm way he had that makes Kornelius’ thoughts haze over. That maked him wish he could stay in the light of that warmth forever. Sometimes he wondered if this was what love felt like or if he was crazy. He had had lovers before – awkward teenage dalliances and drunken romps in military tents during training. But they had all been short lived, more for the joy of physical satisfaction than anything else. He had never felt so at home so— _intimate_ with anyone as he did with Janis. 

But what was the point of it? What was the point on dwelling on those feelings? Janis would likely think him odd for it and, inevitably, Kornelius would need to marry. He was his father’s only living child. If the line was to survive, he would need an heir. It was better if he not think about his emotions on this account too much. 

Janis ducked his head and kissed Kornelius’ hand without breaking eye contact. Kornelius felt a swarm of tingles erupt over his back. He shivered and pulled back. Janis looked like he wanted to say something else, but Kornelius knew that if he stayed any longer, he might not leave at all. “I must go,” he said, embarrassed at how hoarse his voice sounded. 

Janis did not stop him. 

*

When they got to the fishing village, Kornelius was struck by how dark and deserted the area felt. No signs of moving troops or even a small royal escort. The village was made up of only a few huts, half of which were abandoned. The others were nestled among the bushes and, this late, they were dark as well. They had been told to meet on the southwest side at the bend of the small river. “Put out the lanterns,” Kornelius ordered, something heavy settling into the pit of his stomach. 

The sedge grass grew thick and tall along the shoreline, its sharp edges dangerous in the dark. The moon was in waxing crest and its silvery light was dim and ghostly, shining faintly off the smooth surface of the river. Kornelius and his men spread out within a couple of paces of each other and shrank into the tall grass. They waited for any signs of movement from around the village. 

Time passed slowly, quarter of an hour, then half, then a full hour. Nothing disturbed the night around them. At first, Kornelius was calm, thinking that Ioann had simply been delayed. Then, he wondered if he had gotten the location wrong, or if Janis misunderstood. 

Then, he began to wonder if Janis had lied to him to spoil the meeting, and dismissed the thought instantly. 

For some half hour, he tortured himself with the thought that they had walked into a trap after all. 

Once they had been waiting for an hour, Kornelius said, “We need to get back to camp. Something is very wrong.”

“What do you think it all means?” Daugawin asked as they mounted. He seemed shaken, but perhaps that was only the cold. 

“I couldn’t start to guess,” Kornelius muttered, as a million suspicions, one more horrific than the last, ran through his head, and spurred his horse into a canter. 

*

The short road to the border village of Berstol was muddy and wet. Janis’ horse kicked up sprays of mud and slush that probably all settled on the hem of his long, high-hooded cloak, embroidered with the royal crests and insignias. Kornelius only wore it for formal ceremonies, but Janis needed something that screamed _I am the Heir to Akriam in this party!_ The three men Janis had taken with him rode in a tight formation at his back, expecting an attack at any moment. Janis had instructed them to be wary. 

It had not been easy to lie to Kornelius. To stand there, watch the earnest trust in his face, and lie anyway. He wished he could say, _If you trust me, listen to me._ But it would have been hopeless. Kornelius was enamored with Ioann, with his charming gestures and manipulations that made Kornelius feel important and respected in a situation where he felt too little from the men who were supposed to be his allies. Even more, Kornelius wanted to do something _grand,_ something worthy of his father’s expectations, of his own ideals and ideas about how the world needed to be. He would not see that Ioann would never offer a treaty like this. Ioann would know, or at least suspect, that any treaty Kornelius entered into would need final approval from his father and the old Sovereign Prince would never approve of abandoning their allies for promises easily broken. The Empire had broken treaties before, it could do so again. Why offer Akriam peace and favorable trade when it could divide and conquer the region and then make use of its resources as it pleased? 

There was nothing left for Janis to do but to break Kornelius’ delusions in the only way the situation allowed. 

It was not that he did not have doubts. It could be that they would arrive in Brestol and find only Ioann and his diplomats, ready to finalize negotiations of a treaty. But Janis would rather be wrong than be right and not have done anything to prevent it. At the very least, he would have the cold consolation prize of saving Akriam from a disastrous treaty. He was willing to wager that no matter how angry and betrayed Kornelius would feel, he would not have the heart to have Janis hung for treason. That would be another small consolation prize, even colder than the first, as Janis was not certain how much he wanted his life without Kornelius in it. 

Suddenly, Janis felt a strong jolt, as though his horse had stumbled in the dark. She screamed and went down. Only then Janis realized that he had heard a muffled report. He hit the ground hard and for a moment it knocked the breath out of him. His men were shouting. 

Janis stumbled to his feet, fumbling for the sword at his side. He looked around to see shadow after shadow emerging from the woods around them. One of his men was on the ground, unmoving, one was standing beside his fallen horse like Janis, the third still mounted. It didn’t matter, they were surrounded and vastly outnumbered. “Stop!” Janis shouted. _Don’t resist,_ he wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat as he fought a sudden urge to cough. 

The fight that broke out was fruitless and short-lived. Janis watched it unfold as though from a distance. When his sword was knocked out of his hand and he was restrained by two men, a bag was thrown over his head, Janis felt oddly calm. Calm enough to notice that they had bothered to take him alive while killing the others. 

So, there was more to this plan than murder. 

*

Janis blinked against the bright light when the bag finally came off his head as he was forced down to his knees. His hands were tied tightly behind his back and he focused on balancing as to not fall over and land on his face. He tried to ascertain his surroundings, the candles on the table in front of him making it difficult to see beyond what was directly before him – the rest was darkness. There was no floor under him, only patted down dirt. The dark material above him looked like it might be tenting, and Janis thought he caught a glint of a metal rod. By the length of the ride and what looked like the interior of a command tent, he would guess that they were in a military encampment, perhaps outside Brestol, perhaps elsewhere in a similar radius. 

A figure came into Janis’ line of vision. His face slowly emerged from the shadows and Janis recognized Ioann. The Emperor’s expression was nearly unreadable, but judging by the flushed tone of his cheeks, he was livid. 

“What the hell is this? This isn’t the prince.” Ioann demanded. 

One of the men who had dragged Janis in answered from behind him. “We thought it was the prince, Your Majesty. He rode at the front of the group, gave orders, and the cloak…”

“And the others?”

“Killed, Your Majesty.”

“Could the prince be one of them?” 

“No, Your Majesty, we checked. They have no likeness.”

“So, you checked the soldiers but not your actual prisoner?” Ioann spat. _He does not seem so charming now,_ Janis thought. 

“We just thought it obvious…” one of the men – sounded like there were two of them – began. They then started to explain something, speaking over each other, too rapidly for Janis to understand in their language. 

“Out!” Ioann shouted, cutting them off. There was a rustling of fabric and heavy footfalls.

“Not very smart, are they?” Janis said. 

That earned him a stinging slap across the face. _Still worth it._

“Watch him,” Ioann threw to someone outside Janis’ field of vision. He then huddled with his ministers. The tent was cramped so they could not retreat completely out of earshot. Either way, Ioann did not seem to be terribly invested in whether Janis overheard their discussions or not. 

“What do we do with him?” one of the ministers was asking, a skinny man with an overly large head and sandy-brown hair going grey on all sides. 

“Well we cannot let him go,” Ioann said. 

“Why not? What use is he to us?” the second minister, a bald, stout man, put in. “Do you think we can get information out of him?”

“What I would _like_ to know is whether Prince Kornelius did not come because he suspected we were up to something, or because his friend here lied to him to stop him from coming for some reason.”

“We could ask him,” Baldy said, throwing a nasty look over at Janis. Janis set his jaw. This could get very unpleasant, very quickly. 

“No,” Ioann shook his head. “We can’t risk the chance of him lying about it.”

“If we let him go, he will tell the prince everything,” Skinny began. “If we keep him and the prince was suspicious, his fears will be confirmed. If he was lied to…”

“He will wonder where his friend went. It might scare him off,” Baldy reasoned, his eyebrows knitting together and becoming an overgrown unibrow. “We could kill him. At least that way, if Prince Kornelius does not know of his little friend’s escapade, we could make up some story of a failed assassination attempt…something…” 

“No, no, it’s all no good.” Janis could hear the exasperation in Ioann’s voice. “Even Prince Kornelius wouldn’t believe that. And even if he did, the death of a close, longtime friend can make a man lose sense and forgive betrayal in grief. No.” Ioann began to pace, despite having very little to do so. It looked like he was glittery, nervous about the sudden hitch in his plans. Suddenly he stopped and smiled one of those broad smiles that had made Kornelius seem to melt. Except this time, it was colder. “We will do better. We will demand a prisoner exchange. Kornelius surrenders himself into our custody or his friend dies. Prince Kornelius will be in our hands and his father will surely sign any treaty to get his only child and heir back. What kind of father wouldn’t?”

Janis surprised himself by how calm he felt. Death was better than torture, probably better than indefinite captivity, too. He could live – _die_ – with this. His life for Kornelius’ safety, for his country’s freedom. It was a worthy death. 

He did not consider for a moment that Kornelius might agree to the trade. For all Kornelius’ affection, Janis was not arrogant enough to imagine that he was that worthy of a prize. 

“I will draft the letter,” Baldy was saying. 

“No, no.” Ioann held up a hand. “For something like this, we need it to be personal, dramatic. Prince Kornelius needs to see and feel the immediate danger He has to have no time to consult with anyone.”

How foolish they all seemed to Janis in that moment. Oh, no, the Emperor was good at reading people. He managed to figure out many things about Kornelius but not this one. Janis barked out a laugh; it came unbidden – he had not meant to attract attention to himself. 

“What’s so funny, boy?” Baldy grumbled. Ioann turned to Janis and examined his face. 

Janis couldn’t help but smile; he felt it must have come out somewhat maniacal. “You are all fools. Kornelius will never exchange himself – and his country – for me. You’ve lost. Kornelius will see your treachery and we and our allies—Akriam will never be yours.”

This time it isn’t a slap, but a punch to the solar plexus that makes Janis double over and struggle to breathe. 

“You’re the fool if you haven’t seen how he looks at you,” Ioann said, his voice sickeningly velvety. 

Something hot and sharp clawed at Janis’ chest. He ignored the feeling, ignored the sudden recollections of every time Kornelius had looked at him in a way that made Janis want to throw caution to the wind and kiss him. _It never meant anything. You know this. Focus._ Janis forced himself to look up and into Ioann’s face. 

“You’ve lost,” he repeated. 

*

By the time the sun came up, Kornelius had dozed off inadvertently, curled up on the large windowsill of his room back at the hunting cabin. By the time his party returned from the failed meeting it was the middle of the night. Akriam diplomats and troops were the only ones there. The entire Severoslava camp was gone. Still bewildered, Kornelius sent for Janis only to find out that he was not in camp and no one had seen him since that evening. Further inquiries revealed that three soldiers were not accounted for in their ranks. The watchmen posts did not report any intrusions or other odd activity. 

Kornelius made what arrangements he could think of, sent out scouts to see if they could find a clue as to where Janis might have disappeared to and to scope out the surrounding area for potential ambushes. He did not know what to think and the sinking feeling in his stomach that had begun earlier that night increased by the hour. 

Finally, exhausted, he succumbed to a fitful sleep for a few hours before being woken by shouting coming from the edges of their camp. Kornelius grabbed his discarded uniform jacket and ran to meet the incoming scouts. 

“Your Highness, Your Highness!” They were coming in at a fast cantor; one of the scouts waved his hat franticly. The horses snorted as they were sharply reined in, kicking up dirt and mud.

“What’s happened?” 

“Enemy lines approaching, Your Highness. Eastward.” 

Several officers had come to stand at Kornelius’ side and hear the report. A murmur rolled through the group. Their location was hardly half a league away form the border. Kornelius’ first thought was that Severoslava had quietly assembled troops on the border during the last day of the conference and the Emperor had retreated the night before to meet up with his lines. And now…

“We need to retreat back into the woods. They’re unlikely to follow us too deeply into Akras lands.”

“There might not be time, Your Highness,” one of the scouts said. “They look like two-three companies at best. Very mobile, but we could likely hold them from the high ground here.” 

Kornelius looked over at the officers around him. “Are we prepared to stand?” Suddenly he was glad for having kept the camp on alert all night. 

Colonel Kalej, who ranked highest among the officers, nodded. “Give the order, Your Highness.”

*

The sky was a lead gray, the sun completely hidden by thick clouds. Gusty winds swept the empty field between the outer edge of Briedivetas and the next ridge of forest. Briedivetas was slightly elevated over the over the eastward leading fields. Kornelius’ men held the high ground as long as they did not move forward to meet the Empire’s advance. In the watery fog of the morning, Kornelius ascertained around three companies of Severoslavan troops headed in their direction in neat formation. They stopped at about twice the range of a musket shot, knowing full well that the Akriam forces would not have any artillery at their back.

Kornelius, Colonel Kalej and Major Liepa rode at the top of the Akriam column and reined up at the edge of the slope overlooking the field below. They watched as the Severoslavan troops advanced, then suddenly came to a halt. Kornelius wished he had a cavalry at his disposal to send down in a charge. But, or course, he only had two companies of infantry stationed in a long, spread out formation across the top of the slope, prepared to hold the high ground. 

The standstill continued. The Severoslavans appeared to be waiting for something. “What are they doing?” Kornelius muttered. _Janis would probably know._

“There,” Liepa said suddenly, pointing ahead. A small group of four riders detached itself from the neat formations of the Severoslavan troops and road forward, carrying one Imperial standard and what looked like a hastily-made parley flag. They stopped about halfway between their own troops and the Akriam lines. 

“We should meet them,” Kornelius said. 

“You shouldn’t go, Your Highness.” 

Kornelius studied the outrider group through a long spyglass. He recognized one of the riders as Ioann. He was in a field uniform, decked out with golden epaulets and honor symbols but otherwise much plainer than what he had worn at the conference. One of the riders was leading another’s horse by the reins. That horse’s rider had a dark bag over his head. _A prisoner._ Kornelius’ heart skipped a beat. “No, I should.” Without waiting for a response, he spurred his horse forward. Not having a choice, his officers followed. 

Kornelius stopped once they were within hearing distance of Ioann and his group. No one bothered to dismount. 

“We missed you at our rendezvous last night, Prince Kornelius,” Ioanna said. There was no hint of his relaxed smile now. 

“I can see just how much,” Kornelius said. “What is the meaning of this? What is it that you _really_ want?”

“Perhaps I really did want a treaty.”

“If there was all a misunderstanding, you would have sent a diplomat, not a host.”

Ioann smiled a slow and cold smile, a strange dark twin of what Kornelius had seen previously. “Well, never mind what I had wanted. We have a friend of yours. I think you’d like him back.” 

The other Severoslavan riders were pulling their prisoner from his horse and dragging him to the front of the group. They forced the man to his knees and stood at his back. 

“Show him.” 

One of the soldiers pulled the bag from the man’s head. 

Kornelius inhaled and tried to stuff down an instant wave of panic. _Janis._ “You kidnapped my First Adjutant,” Kornelius said, keeping his voice as flat as he could. Janis was gagged and refusing to look at him, choosing instead to study the muddy grass. _Look at me, Janis, damn it. What did you do? What do_ I _do?_

“Actually, he came to us,” Ioann said. “But no matter. I offer you a different treaty, _Your Highness_.” 

“No more treaties. If it’s a ransom you want, that can be arranged. We don’t have any of your men to trade—”

“Yet,” Kalej said darkly under his breath. 

“But name your price and we will see.”

“It is a ransom I want,” Ioann agreed. His eyes were shinning now. Kornelius wondered if the Emperor could sense his distress. Janis was still stubbornly looking down. “But it’s not money I want or prisoners of war.”

“What then?”

“You.”

“Me?” Kalej and Liepa instantly began shouting in outrage. Kornelius held up a hand to make them stop. “My men are valuable to me, Emperor. But where is it heard of for a country to exchange a crown prince for a middle-ranking officer?” Kornelius tried to keep his voice steady. He thought he saw the slump in Janis’ shoulders increase, even as he made no effort to otherwise ask for help. _I don’t mean it, you idiot,_ Kornelius thought. _I’ll find something they want._

“Oh, a _country_ \-- no. Not for any old middle-ranking officer. But you, Kornelius, for _this_ officer? I thought it might be worth the while.” 

_Bastard,_ Kornelius wanted to shout, but bit his lip. 

“Come, Your Highness,” Kalej said loudly. “We will have a prisoner of war worthy of the exchange ourselves soon.”

“Oh, no, you don’t understand,” Ioann said, with his usual calm, before Kornelius could respond or even get a thought in. He sounded almost _gleeful_ to Kornelius’ ears. “You must choose now, Your Highness. You surrender to us and we let your adjutant go, or…we execute him.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Kornelius’ knuckles were white around the reins of his horse. His heart was pounding and the tiredness from the nearly sleepless night was making his mind hazy. There had to be some other way out. Perhaps if they could hold out long enough… His officers were sayings something to him, both at once, but Kornelius’ wasn’t listening to them. _What have you done, Janis?_

 _He saved you,._ a small voice in Kornelius’ head told him. _At least he tried to._

“You want us to withdraw from the war? Is that it?” Kornelius said, his voice pitched higher than he would have liked. “We can do that. I was already willing to do that!” 

“Your Highness—!”

“Quiet, Colonel.”

For the first time, Janis looked up. He met Kornelius eyes and shook his head. This earned him a kick from one of the Severoslavan soldiers. Janis was pale, a bruise blossoming across his right cheekbone, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. His eyes pleaded with Kornelius, but not for help. 

Ioann continued, “You, perhaps. But your father… Well.” He shook his head, slowly. 

“I need time to consult—” 

“Thirty seconds.”

“Keep him talking, Your Highness,” Kalej insisted quietly, despite the order. Kornelius barely heard him. 

Kornelius looked over at his officers. His heart clenched. There was nothing to hope for. There was no help, there was no time. He had been a fool and now…now… 

Ioann signaled to his soldiers. One took hold of Janis to keep him in place, the other prepared is musket. 

“This is against all laws of war!” Kornelius insisted, desperate. Desperate to not have to make this decision. 

Ioann only smiled and said, “Fifteen seconds.” 

Kornelius caught Janis’ eyes and held his gaze. Janis seemed resigned, calm, defiant almost. He was not expecting Kornelius to help him. He had gone into this knowingly. Akriam’s surrender and inevitable fall to the Empire, betrayal of their allies, or Janis life. 

“Five second.” 

But his father was a better man, a stronger man than Kornelius. Or so Kornelius would have to hope. 

“Three…” A glint of grey morning light reflected off the musket they pressed to Janis’ head. Janis gave Kornelius one last look and closed his eyes. “Two.”

“Stop!”

Everyone froze. 

“I agree to the exchange.”


	3. Chapter 3

"I agree to the exchange." Kornelius repeated, somehow getting his voice to carry despite the sudden lump in his throat. 

Janis’ eyes snapped open, eyes frantic and stunned. 

“Your Highness, you can’t—” 

“Think of your father—” 

Kornelius turned to his officers. He must have looked determined enough for them to fall silent. “Tell my father…Convince him to not surrender. To not sign any treaties that would weaken us. Tell him I failed, that he shouldn’t rescue me. It’s the only way to save the country. That matters more than my life.” _Janis matters more than my life._ “My second cousin will make a good Sovereign Prince after my father has passed.” Kornelius dismounted. “Major, escort me.” 

Liepa hesitated.

“That’s an order, Major.” 

Liepa dismounted. Kornelius handed his musket and sword to Kalej. 

Ioann, looking pleased, signaled his men. One of them dragged Janis up to his feet.

“Untie and ungag him first,” Kornelius demanded. 

After a beat of hesitation, Ioann nodded. His men obeyed. 

“Kornelius, don’t do this!” Janis blurted out as soon as the gag was removed, and received a musket butt to the head hard enough to make him stumble. 

“Begin,” Kornelius said, hardly hearing his own voice over the hum of adrenaline at his temples. He caught Janis’ eyes again and held them, pleading for him to not make things worse. They looked at each other – desperate and confused, Kornelius with an expanding emptiness in his chest, like the world was falling away. _I love you,_ he longed to say and couldn’t. 

They begin to approach each other at equal pace, Janis escorted by the Severoslavan officers – Kornelius now could better make out his epaulets – and Kornelius by Major Liepa. With every step, Kornelius felt calmer, easier. If everything worked out, Janis would be safe and Akriam would be as safe as it ever could be. So long as his father did not cave in. But there was nothing Kornelius could do about that. This was the best he could manage to fix a situation he had created. _My father will not cave. Not after he hears how I failed him._

They were within two paces of each other, and Kornelius wished he could reach out and touch Janis one last time. Whenever he had been angry or afraid, just a single touch from Janis could make him feel better. 

There was a rumbling in his ears now. It grew louder and louder—

Suddenly a high, trumpeting sound pierced the air. Then another. A third. 

_Battle horns._ Kornelius thought, numbly. _Someone is blowing a battle horn…_

Suddenly the world erupted into shouts, disorganized gunfire and neighing of horses. Janis elbowed his handler and broke free. Liepa lunged forward and bowled over the Severoslavan officer; they struggled on the ground in a common fistfight, their muskets forgotten. Then, Janis was grabbing Kornelius’ arm and knocking him over as bullets whizzed just above them. Kornelius chanced a look up. 

_Reinforcements._

What looked like several companies of Akriam troops were emerging from the line of three from one side and more from over the top of the slope. The reinforcements he had sent for earlier that night after retuning to camp had arrived after all, approaching stealthily enough to outflank the Severoslavans. 

“Go!” Janis shouted. “Go! We need to get to our lines!”

Kornelius stumbled to his feet and they ran. They were some fifteen meters from their lines when Kornelius felt a sudden stabbing pain in his shoulder and chest. It nearly knocked him off his feet and only Janis’ grip on his wrist kept him from falling over entirely. His vision swam as the pain leaked over his ribs and into his abdomen, radiating across his back. 

The last thing Kornelius remembered was stumbling through the front lines of one of their formations and Janis yelling, “Medic! Get me a medic!” 

*

“Kornelius? Kornelius, can you hear me?” 

Kornelius gave a small whimper and blinked twice. His eyes slowly focused on Janis’ face. 

“Thank the heavens, I was starting to worry.” Janis shifted his position to sit on the edge of Kornelius’ bed. The rain than had threatened that morning began to fall an hour ago but the room was kept warm by a well-stoked fireplace. Kornelius blinked up at Janis in some confusion. Blankets hid most of the bandaging, so he looked like he had simply woken up from a very deep sleep. “How are you feeling?

“Odd,” Kornelius said, his voice groggy. “Where are we? What happened?” 

“We’re still in Briedivetas. You took a musketball to the lower shoulder – it hasn’t been safe to move you. It probably won’t be for a few more days. I’ve sent a courier to Sovereign Prince Benas to secure permission for us to stay here until you can travel.” 

“The battle?”

“Over with minimal casualties. The Severoslavan forces made a hasty retreat and fled back into the Empire’s territories. Our reinforcements scared them off. Speaking of which…where did those come from? Did you—did you know they were coming?”

Kornelius tried to sit up, but instantly abandoned the effort and lay back down, wincing in pain. Janis put a hand on his uninjured shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Lie still. The medic said you should be fine if you follow instructions. And one of those is to lie still.”

“I’m no good at instructions.”

“Clearly.” Janis smiled. “I’m decent, though.”

Kornelius smiled weakly up at him and Janis felt the iron band of anxiety that had been wrapped around his chest for the past several hours slowly dissolve. A different sort of ache replaced it. 

Kornelius said, his smile fading, “I didn’t know if the reinforcements would get there in time. In fact, I really didn’t think they would. When I go back here after the failed meeting with Io—the Emperor, and after finding out you were missing, I became convinced of foul play. I sent word to our troops at Mazojimidena and ordered a forced march up here and to expect battle.”

“Mazojimidena? But that’s only some five leagues away. Weren’t they supposed to wait at our border until the end of the conference?” 

“My father, paranoid old man that he is, sent them ahead. I suppose it’s a good thing he did. That’s what the letter I received last night was about – the troop movements—” His words were cut off by a coughing fit. 

Janis reached for a glass of water. He supported Kornelius’ head to help him drink, then sat quietly and stroked a hand through Kornelius’ curls while he recovered from the waves of pain the coughing fit caused. His forehead was still warm and his cheeks flushed, signaling that the fever was not fully gone despite the mixture the medic had administered earlier. Kornelius tilted his head toward Janis’ hand to maximize the contact. After a few minutes, the pained wrinkles on his face smoothed out, but Janis kept his fingers tangled in Kornelius’ hair. The warmth of that touch seemed to sooth Kornelius. 

Without opening his eyes, Kornelius asked, “There was no messenger was there? You told me the wrong location on purpose so you could go to the real one in my stead.” 

Janis closed his eyes, the warmth that had begun to fill him suddenly turning into ice. For a moment he struggled to breathe. “Yes.” He explained to Kornelius in the most clinical terms he could what he had done and what his reasoning had been. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” He meant to pull away, but Kornelius grabbed his hand and pressed it to his own cheek. The skin there was too warm. 

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I was a complete idiot and I didn’t listen to you when I should have. I could have ruined us. All because I didn’t want to listen. Because I was too caught up in my own daydreams and pride…”

“No. Because you see the best in people. And you saved me in the end. Major Liepa told me what you did at the exchange. What you told them to tell your father.”

“Is Liepa alright then?”

“Some scrapes and bruises and such. But he faired very well.”

“I’m glad.” 

“Kornelius…” _I would do it all again to protect you, you know._ “So you’re not angry with me?”

Kornelius gave an inelegant snort. “I’d have to be a downright ass for that. Are you angry with me?” He let go of Janis’ hand and reached up to gently brush a thumb over the bruise of Janis’ cheekbone. “You’re hurt, too.”

“It’s nothing,” Janis said, his voice breaking. “And I could never be mad at you. Not really. Frustrated, yes, but not mad. I love that you’re this way – too optimistic for your own good. I love—” _–you._ “Here, we should take care of that fever,” Janis mumbled, quickly looking away from Kornelius. This was not the time. 

Janis picked up a small basin of cool water and a clean cloth. He soaked the cloth, wrung it out and gently laid it over Kornelius’ forehead. Kornelius whimpered.

“What are you doing? That’s cold.”

“It will help your fever. The medic gave you a mixture, but I still need to watch you.”

“You should go sleep,” Kornelius insisted without opening his eyes. “I’ll manage.”

“Like hell you will; I can sleep later.” He used another cloth, to wipe down Kornelius’ face and neck, gently pressed it to his clavicle and shoulders. “Go to sleep, Kornelius, we can talk later.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

Janis heard _that_ note in Kornelius’ voice, the slight break that said that he was _afraid_ to sleep. Even as a child Kornelius suffered from nightmares after any overly-stressful situation. Perhaps he was also scared of what might happen in the waking world too. They were on the bring of war, after all, with a sly and ruthless foe, with their allies far away, amassing their forces farther north. “I will stay with you,” Janis promised.

Kornelius looked unconvinced. 

“Well, if you don’t want to sleep, do you want to eat something?”

“No, I definitely don’t want to eat. And I don’t want to keep you.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Janis scoffed. Kornelius gave him a look. Janis sighed and set aside the water basin with the damp cloths. “We can both sleep. Scoot over a little. Just—careful.” Janis helped Kornelius to move over slightly so there was enough room for Janis to lay down next to him on the bed. Janis put an arm around Kornelius’ waist and hid his face against his friend’s neck, breathing in the tangy smell of medical herbs. 

“Janis,” Kornelius said sleepily after a moment’s silence. “That entire time this morning…during the exchange…I kept thinking how much I…I wanted to tell—”

“Hush. Go to sleep. We can talk later.” 

Kornelius was clearly too tired and sick to fight him. In minutes, they were both asleep. 

*

Lake Ezerinis shimmered even in the fading light of the evening. From a distance, the noise and hub of a large military encampment carried through the otherwise still air. The allied forces were readying themselves for their first large battle the next day and Kornelius thought he could spot the lights of the enemy camp on the other bank if he tried. 

Janis stood behind him with his arms around Kornelius’ waist. They had never held each other like that before but something in the events of the past week made them yearn to be even closer to each other than ever before. Perhaps they had always yearned for it. It was still hard to put it into words. 

“Do me a favor and stay away from the front lines tomorrow, won’t you?” Janis said. “You’re still nowhere near completely healed. Really, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I need to be here. I won’t get involved in the fighting tomorrow, I promise.” Kornelius bit his lip and stared at the water. “Stay safe tomorrow, won’t you?’

Janis tilted his head forward and pressed his temple to the side of Kornelius’ head. “I will. If only to come back to you.”

No longer able to hold in the pressure that had been building in his chest for the last few days, Kornelius turned around in Janis arms and blurted out, “IthinkIloveyou.”

“What?”

Kornelius flushed and dropped his eyes. “I think—I know—I love you,” he said, almost in a whisper. 

Janis cupped his face and made him look up. The joy in his eyes was nothing like anything Kornelius had ever seen before. “You’re braver than me,” Janis said. “I love you, too. Always have, always will. I was always too afraid to say it, even now, even after—”

Kornelius cut him off with a kiss. Janis’s hands slid over Kornelius’s cheeks, one coming to rest gently under his chin, the other on the back of his neck as he kissed him back, desperately. Kornelius slip his hands over Janis’ back, pulling him closer until they were flush against each other.

When they withdrew, both were gasping. Kornelius pressed his forehead to Janis’, not wanting to let him go too far. “Maybe we’re both fools,” Kornelius said with a small laugh. 

“If that’s what it takes,” Janis said, and kissed him again as the last of the day’s light seeped out from the sky.


End file.
